


True Love Delayed for a Little While

by FunnyWings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Action, Death, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Princess Bride AU, Rhyming, mostly dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunnyWings/pseuds/FunnyWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Bride AU. That about sums it up. Have fun guessing which characters are which before they show up. Also, there are some quotes directly from the movie, but it is not a word by word retelling of the events in the film.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Angels do not have vessels in this, they are their own species, and intermarriage between angels and humans although perhaps not common is not unheard of. That's it for clarifications for now.

Claire Novak was miserable and sick. But mostly miserable. She looked at her laptop and sighed. All of her friends were at school, and she didn’t have anyone to talk to. She’d spent the last several hours trying to write a report for her seventh grade science class, but every time she tried to focus on the screen, her head ached worse and she soon gave up for the pain.

When her mother entered the room, Claire was blowing her nose loudly and hoping that her mom had brought some kind of tea. Amelia Novak had in fact made her daughter tea, but that was the only thing that Amelia had done, because standing behind her was Jimmy’s dad, Grandpa Chuck. Claire had never been sure whether she liked him, because he although he seemed nice enough, he always smelt like alcohol and when her dad had still been alive he’d always said that his relationship with Grandpa Chuck was quote unquote complicated. Claire had long since realized that was what adults said when they loved someone that didn’t always treat them very well.

“Hey, Claire bear,” said Amelia. “Your grandpa came to read you a story. Isn’t that nice?”

“Sure,” Claire said, barely sparing a glance from her computer. Her mom sighed heavily, implying that Claire needed to behave herself. Claire decided that was her cue to be twice as difficult and spent the next minute barely acknowledging her granddad until he cleared his throat and she reluctantly looked up. “What?”

“I thought I’d read this to you,” Grandpa Chuck said. “It’s a good story. There’s action, revenge, battles of wits, romance-”

“What you think just because I’m a girl I want to hear some romance novel?” Claire asked. She knew she was being difficult, but Grandpa Chuck never visited. She didn’t know why she was expected to just instantly respect him when he hadn’t even been there for her mom when her dad had died. He’d been MIA so long that when he’d suddenly started calling a while back, Amelia had been shocked he was still alive.

Chuck responded to Claire’s angry outburst by heavily sinking down into a chair by her bed and pulling out a well weathered book. He opened the cover and showed it to her. Claire was surprised to see three names written inside.

Joseph Novak

Chuck Novak

Jimmy Novak

“My dad used to read this to me when I was sick,” Chuck explained. “And I read it to your dad. I thought it would be nice to carry on the tradition even though-”

“Okay,” Claire agreed, her fingers tracing over the childish handwriting that spelled out her father’s name. “I’ll try not to fall asleep,” she added, just to be spiteful. Chuck half smiled in amusement that seemed laced with regret before opening the book and beginning the story.

“Once upon a time, on a farm, there lived a girl…”

******************

Sarah was educated, beautiful, and proud. Though she did not possess noble blood, her family’s farm did well enough that as her father’s only child, she had been allowed tutors and become well versed in literature and art. Her home was humble, the only luxuries her stern father was willing to use his savings for being the collection of books that Sarah so enjoyed and a boy that worked their farm since Sarah’s childhood.

Despite her perceived sophistication, Sarah could admit that she had simple joys in life. The stimulation of someone who could match her intellectually, the emotional connection she could achieve with a well written book, and ordering around the farm boy that worked her father’s farm.

Without ever knowing why, she would seek him out for the most unnecessary of tasks. She would ask him to dust the books so often, she knew that no speck of dust ever rested long in her father’s shelf of prized possessions. She would sit and call for the farm boy to fetch her a glass of water she could easily have gotten for herself. Every command she gave him, he only responded with a kind smile, his hazel eyes boring into hers as he spoke.

“As you wish.”

After the death of Sarah’s father, she found herself growing more lonely, and she sought out the farm boy for company, using the flimsiest of excuses to keep him close. It was one day when she asked him to read to her from a book of poetry that she first realized that when he said ‘As you wish’, what he meant was ‘I love you’. And where before there had been a nameless ache, there was only light when Sarah realized that she truly loved him back.

However, the farm boy had been orphaned at a young age and taken in by her father as an act of charity. He had no inheritance of his own to help Sarah with the farm, so shortly after the two had admitted their feelings for each other, the farm boy convinced his love that he needed to seek his fortune across the sea. Sarah had wanted to keep him by her side, but she recognized the need to be equal partner in their relationship and was willing to let him go if he thought going would fulfill a part of him he yearned to complete.

“Promise you’ll come back, someday?” Sarah asked, holding her love as tightly as she could. “Please, Sam, promise me you’ll come back.”

“Sarah Blake,” Sam said, sounding almost scolding, his words gently mocking. “You think I could ever stay away from you?”

Sarah held still tighter, worry gripping her as the hour of Sam’s departure drew inevitably closer.

“What if something happens to you?”

“Death couldn’t keep me away,” Sam said. “This is true love. You think this happens everyday?”

Sarah smiled, and before Sam left the two shared a passionate embrace, the…

****************

“Are you kidding me?” Claire asked, rolling her eyes. “What? They’re in love, just like that?”

“Uh, pretty much,” Chuck said, surprised to be interrupted.

“It just doesn’t seem to be built on much. They just sort of realize they’re in love with each other. I thought you said there was action in this.”

“I’m getting to that part.”

“Can’t you just skip to it?”

“No, I can’t just skip to it. Do you realize how important every part of a story is? Authors include it for a reason. Only a bad writer wastes words. Now, can I continue?”

Claire crossed her arms across her chest, but nodded petulantly. Chuck cleared his throat and continued reading.

****************

a passionate embrace, the likes of which belonged to those that loved each other without reservation or any attempt to shield their heart. After Sarah bid farewell do Sam, she continued working the farm, waiting for him to come home.

However, Sam never did make it home. His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Lucifer, a man who leaves no survivors. When Sarah learned of the news, she refused to speak for several months, working herself hard enough to become ill and unable to read the books she so loved. Somehow her sorrow only served to make her more beautiful, and the reputation of the farm girl who’s fiancé had died at sea grew until even kings of her and foreign lands knew her name. It was three years from Sam’s death that Sarah was asked to marry King Michael.

Sarah told the king she would never love him, but he assured her that she would grow to. Knowing her only other option was a likely painful death, Sarah agreed to the marriage, and left the home she had known for the king’s palace. Regret and sadness filled her, and she spent her days riding as far from the confining walls of King Michael’s home as she could.

It was one of these days when she came across three men in the woods. The first one was well dressed in dark well tailored pants and shirt, well fed enough to alert Sarah that he likely had did not suffer from a lack of money. A second man was dressed more simply in work clothes that reminded her of the ones Sam used to wear a sword at his side. The third was an angel, raven black wings tucked behind his back, and only his waist covered with a shimmering white cloth that was definitively not human in origin. Due to the high population of angels in Aether, Sarah was used to this style of dress, though it had never stopped to strike her as amusing when seen side by side with the type of clothing humans favored.

Sarah slowed her horse, surprised to see anyone so far from the nearest town in the area, especially since their were no roads within the woods, only riding paths that King Michael had had cleared for the pleasure of his most trusted advisors and counselors.

“Excuse me,” the first man said, his accent revealing that he was not a native of her country of Terra, nor one of the inhabitants of King Michael’s Aether. “We are part of a traveling guild, but seem to have lost our way. If you could point us to the nearest town, we would be much obliged.”

“I don’t see how you could have gone so far astray,” Sarah mused, stalling so that she could determine which direction would be best to send them in. “There’s not a thing around for miles. I don’t see why your guild would be passing through these woods.”

Quicker than Sarah could do anything about, the darkly dressed man signaled one of his companions. The angel promptly disappeared, and then Sarah felt a soft tug on one of her wrists. She turned quickly around, and the angel lifted two fingers to her forehead, sending her into a deep sleep. Then he easily lifted the girl off of her horse, careful not to use too much of his strength and damage the girl in any way.

The swordsman helped the angel to carry the girl onto a boat that was hidden nearby that they had brought in order to to kidnap the future Queen of Aether. Though the angel showed no signs of weakness, the swordsman worried that his previous actions may have tired him.

“You doing okay, Cas?” he asked as the angel set Sarah down upon the floor of the boat, before neatly looping a length of braided silver rope around her wrists.

“It was no strain to my grace, Dean. You need not worry.”

Dean nodded and then glanced back at the third member of their party who was busy doing something to the horse. Dean watched as the horse suddenly kicked up in alarm and rode away as though hell hounds were at its feet. Dean had a single glimpse of bright red eyes before the horse had galloped beyond in his line of sight. He raised an eyebrow at his companion in silent question.

“It was an infection commonly used by Abyssian soldiers,” the man explained coolly. “The animals go mad with fear and attempt to go where they feel most safe. It’s an excellent method of finding enemy camps.”

“But, Crowley, we do not need to know where Michael resides,” Castiel said, confused. “I am well aware of the inner workings of Aether’s palace.”

Crowley sighed dramatically as he often did when he had to explain himself to the two men he had hired to help him complete his plans. They were entirely too willful and asked too many questions about what he ordered them to do.

“Well, love, it’s a good thing that the reason I sent the horse back was so that Kind Michael will know who to blame when he finds the corpse of his beloved in Abyssus.”

“You never said we would be killing the girl,” Castiel said, his wings spreading unconsciously in disapproval. “That does not seem the right thing to do at all.”

“Oh, would you like to make the decisions about what the right thing to do is now, Castiel?” asked Crowley, pleased when Castiel’s wings folded flat against his back, although his expression remained blank. “How well has that worked for you in the past?”

“I’m with Cas on this one,” Dean said casually, back leant against the ship’s mast, and eyes lazily flicking between the girl on the floor of the ship and his two colleagues. “I’m not slitting someone’s throat unless they have a fighting chance against me.”

Crowley fumed before walking up to Dean, eyes narrowed and voice loud and angry.

“Well, pardon me, but I don’t think I care much about the ethical considerations of an alcoholic who could start a fight with an empty room. Or do you not remember that I’m the one who dragged you away from those demons? I’m the one who gave you purpose again after you had buried your regrets under enough whiskey to kill a horse? You owe me your loyalty, and your respect, never forget that. And you, Castiel,” Crowley said turning to the angel. “Who took you in when you had been abandoned by your own kind? Exiled. Friendless. Fallen. Who accepted a useless creature like you out of the goodness of their heart?”

Castiel’s eyes dragged downwards, his wings drooping until the tips of some feathers brushed against the floor of the boat.

“So we are going to do this my way, is that understood?” Crowley finished. He was satisfied by the men’s silence as agreement. “We have a war to start.

Crowley then went to the back of the boat to start preparations so they could be on their way shortly. Castiel still appeared downtrodden, and Dean found he couldn’t stand the sad look on the angel’s face, so he walked up to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder, startling him.

“That Crowley sure can be an ass,” he said, stretching out the last word so that Cas would know that he wanted to play the rhyming game they had come up with to pass the time. Cas’ eyes lit up a little as he considered his response.

“I’m sure there are ways he could behave with more class,” Castiel said solemnly.

“He really didn’t need to make you feel bad.”

“Perhaps he wasn’t loved enough as a lad,” Cas said, a grin of someone doing something they knew they weren’t supposed to working its way across his face. There and gone quickly enough that if Dean had blinked he would have missed it.

“Would you two stop with your inane rhyming,” Crowley yelled before pushing them off so they could start sailing,

“About our trip, Crowley, how’s the timing?” Dean asked.

Crowley just groaned and motioned toward the sail. Cas and Dean exchanged a look before they started to maneuver the boat, satisfied with their quiet victory.


	2. Chapter 2

Sarah woke to find her wrists bound. The gentle swaying motion beneath her alerted her to the fact she was on a boat. It took her a moment to work through what had happened, and she kept her eyes shut while she did so. At last she remembered the three men, and her eyes snapped open to see the angel observing her. With a touch of his finger, the silver rope around her wrist dissolved into nothing.

“If you attack a member of this boat, I will have to restrain you once again,” he said in gentle warning. Sarah blinked in surprise, rubbing her wrists lightly to regain circulation. Such tricks with reality usually required power beyond the average angel. In fact, she had not heard of any outside of those the king’s closest family who possessed such abilities. Most angels only possessed the coveted ability of flight. It was the royal lineage ordained by God that had been given extra abilities. The angel did not stay by her side long, instead choosing to sit by the wall at the back of the boat where the swordsman was. The swordsman’s attention was focused on something in the distance, and he leaned close to the angel to whisper a question to him. After this, Sarah’s attention shifted when the accented voice of the darkly dressed man sounded from the starboard side of the boat, directly across from her.

“Rise and shine,” the man said. “I wouldn’t try to escape, Highness. We’re close to Abyssus, but not close enough that you could swim the distance.”

Sarah swallowed but held her head high, unwilling to be cowed by her kidnappers.

“Don’t worry,” she said, smoothly. “I want to be present when my fiancé castrates you for your crimes.”

“Listen to this one, Dean,” Crowley said in amusement. Dean waved off his boss, still focusing on some point in the distance behind them. Crowley looked back at Sarah. “We won’t get caught, love.”

“Michael is the most powerful angel in all of Aether,” Sarah sniffed in response. “He will come for me.”

“Well, he may be powerful, but I’m Crowley. And the only person in this boat that needs to fear for their safety is you, Highness.”

“Crowley?” Dean called from his position at the back of the boat. “We’re being followed.”

“What?” Crowley asked flatly. “We aren’t being followed. There’s no way anyone could have found out that the future Queen was missing quickly enough to follow us. What you are suggesting lies outside the realm of possibility.”

“Okay, you tell me what that is then,” Dean said, pointing behind them. Crowley searched the horizon and saw what was definitely a boat. A boat which was pointed in their direction and likely gaining on them since he had been able to see it the previous day. The idea of their plan backfiring filled him with nervousness, but he kept his expression calm.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he told the unconvinced swordsman and angel. Just as he was drawing this conclusion, he heard a splash that indicated Sarah had exited the boat and was starting to swim towards the dot on the horizon.

“What are you two doing?” Crowley demanded when Dean and Castiel just stared after her in surprise. “Go get her.”

“I don’t swim,” Dean said.

“I can’t get my wings wet,” Castiel answered. “Especially since Leviathan are known to frequent these waters. I could drown.”

“What is the point of either of you?” Crowley demanded. Luckily for him, the future queen had stopped swimming a look of terror on her face. Crowley could tell by the pulsating blackness surrounding her that the Leviathan had sensed potential prey in the water and were likely toying with her. Sarah was pulled downwards for a moment, before resurfacing seconds later, gasping and terrified. “Do you know what those are, Highness?” Crowley called to her. “Those are Leviathan. And if they drag you down, your soul will forever stay trapped at the bottom of the sea as they feed on you for eternity.”

Sarah barely registered the words, immobilized by fear at the feeling of the viscous creatures pressing down on her skin, at points so painful she would scream if it didn’t feel as though her voice was being suppressed under miles of water. She tried to tread, but found herself lower and lower in the water until she could no longer breath.

***************

“The Leviathans don’t get her,” Chuck said, interrupting himself. Claire noticed too late that she had been gripping her sheets in a tight fist and quickly let go, trying to feign nonchalance.

“No, duh. She’s the main character. I knew she wasn’t going to die.”

“You just looked a little worried,” Chuck said, hiding a smile that served to rile Claire up a little. She huffed and shrugged.

“I mean, I might be if I cared about her as a character. She seems kind of stuck up to me.”

“Well,” Chuck said. “We could stop, if you wanted.”

“No,” Claire answered quickly. “I mean, we’ve gotten this far. Might as well see what happens.”

“As you wish,” Chuck said with a slightly smug grin. Claire rolled her eyes, but felt something inside her start to thaw towards her granddad.

****************

Sarah was pulled under until the pressure surrounding her made her feel as though she were going to implode. She felt the last of her breath pressed from her lungs and resigned herself to her fate, glad at least that she now belonged to the ocean as surely as the farm boy she had once loved did. It was just as she was about to lose consciousness that a blinding light surrounded her, and suddenly she was once again on solid ground. Weakly, she turned herself over and was sick, copious amounts of seawater and bile now covering the boat’s floor.

Beside her the angel lay, his face now pallid and drawn with pain. The swordsman was at his side quickly, hauling the angel to his feet before sitting him carefully against the wall, mindful of his wings, which were now heavy with water. The angel shivered, and the swordsman removed his shirt and laid it across his upper body as a makeshift cover. Satisfied that Castiel would survive, Dean glanced towards the back of the boat once more to see that the boat they had been speaking about had drawn much closer during the excitement with Sarah.

“They’re getting closer,” he informed Crowley, who had already taken regular rope and tied the girl’s hands with it. Dean would have preferred to use the angelic rope that Castiel could supply, since it was less likely to burn the girl’s wrists, but he knew his friend was in no condition to produce any at the moment, so he kept quiet on that front.

“Well, sail faster then, you idiot,” Crowley growled back. Dean sighed and set himself to sailing the ship solo, forcibly pushing Cas back into a sitting position when he tried to get up to help. Crowley looked Sarah up and down, admitting that despite her less than pleasant need to behave in a superior manner that the women did possess a great degree of will. “I suppose you think you’re brave.”

Sarah met him with a cold stare and shook her head.

“Only opportunistic.”

Crowley nodded his understanding and made a mental note to keep a close watch on the girl, lest she be the undoing of his careful plans to bring war against Abyssus so he could reclaim the throne from his rival Abaddon.


	3. Chapter 3

As morning light began to break, Sarah snapped herself from her uneasy rest, the ropes around her wrist causing her enough discomfort that she had never quite managed unconsciousness, despite the lulling motion of the water. The Titan’s cliffs were before them, and Sarah felt intense terror at the thought of being found in a country that was enemies with her fiancé. The men she was with seemed only willing to end her life, and perhaps not that, but there were those in Abyssus who if they suspected her identity might torture her in an attempt to gain information about King Michael.

Dean was also slightly anxious, because the boat behind his was being sailed excellently, and despite how close they were to reaching their destination, he wasn’t entirely sure they wouldn’t be caught up to. Crowley seemed to be in a similar state of mind, because he was shouting at both him and Cas to get their act together and reach the rope they had left in Abyssus before setting out to capture the princess.

“You doing better, Cas?” Dean asked casually. After having to use so much grace the day previous, Dean was worried that Castiel would overexert himself carrying them all to the top of the cliff. His friend nodded imperiously, obviously offended at the idea he wouldn’t be strong enough to carry three humans up a cliff. Dean rolled his eyes, but after bringing his ship into shore, quickly set up the belt that would attach them all to Castiel without asking the angel again if he was really able to carry them.

The man behind them was so close that they were only halfway up the rope when he arrived beside their own ship. He leapt from the ship, barely pausing to properly secure it before taking hold of the rope and climbing behind them. Crowley began to almost shake from rage.

“Can’t you move any faster?” he demanded from Castiel.

“I am carrying three of you, and working at a quarter of my strength. No, I cannot go faster,” Castiel said through gritted teeth.

“Perhaps it’s time I found myself a new angel then. One who actually still works correctly.”

Castiel’s rhythm faltered for a moment, looking towards Dean helplessly. The swordsman shook his head imperceptibly, and Castiel continued his climb, reaching the top just as the man behind them was about three quarters of the way up. After a sharp look from Crowley, Castiel surrendered his knife to the man, who used it to cut the ropes the man would fall to his death. After the rope was cut, Sarah found herself feeling incredibly hopeless, some part of her having thought perhaps the man was some agent of her future husband’s who had been sent to rescue her. Now her fate was entirely at the mercy of her kidnappers. Or so she believed.

“He didn’t fall,” Dean announced, after looking down. Sarah also glanced over the edge, and lo and behold, the man was clinging to the cliff face, slowly but surely making his way towards the top. He was dressed all in black, a mask hiding any defining features. If he hadn’t been wingless, Sarah might have thought he were an angel.

“That’s impossible,” Crowley said, looking over the edge for himself.

“Clearly not,” Castiel replied, still breathing a little heavily.

“Can you push him off?” Crowley asked the angel.

“No, Cas isn’t doing any flying right now,” Dean said sharply.

“Well then, you’ll just have to stay and finish him off,” Crowley said, head nodding toward Dean’s sword. Dean nodded thoughtfully.

“Should I fight with my right or my left hand?”

“Why on earth would that matter?” Crowley asked.

“Well, I may as well get a good fight out of this. If I fight with my right, it’ll be over pretty fast,” Dean mused. He had always liked to live his life as though balanced on the edge of a blade, and he would never turn down a worthy opponent, which, if the strength he was displaying by climbing the wall was anything to indicate, the masked man certainly would be.

“Just kill him,” Crowley said, evidently finished attempting to reason with the swordsman. He stalked off, the expectation for Castiel to follow unspoken. The angel lifted Sarah into his arms, again surprisingly gentle before turning to the swordsman.

“Be careful. You take too many risks.”

“I’ll be fine Cas. I always am. Get going.”

Castiel took off after Crowley, only sparing one more glance at Dean before catching up to their employer. Dean sat upon the ledge, watching the masked man’s slow progress upwards. Dean could already feel his foot beginning to tap with impatience. He had never liked the anticipation of a fight. He enjoyed the heat of battle, swords clashing, blood spilling, pitting man against man and seeing who was the better of the two that day.

“How’s it going?” he called down on impulse. He was then subjected to a petulant glare, clear even through the mask the man was wearing.

“Slowly.”

“Right,” Dean said, humming tunelessly for a moment before he checked the man’s progress again. He sighed, fingers twitching toward his blade. “Do you know how long this will take?”

“I imagine it will take as long as it takes.”

“I hate waiting,” Dean muttered. His eyes spied the rope. If Crowley got wind that he helped the masked man reach the top of the cliff he would not be happy. However, what Crowley didn’t know, he couldn’t take out on Dean. And he had said they were in a hurry…

“What if I passed you down the rope?” Dean asked the masked man.

“Well, I’m fairly certain you would cut it down again in another attempt to kill me.”

“No I won’t kill you until you reach the top,” Dean assured him.

“I haven’t lived this long trusting strangers.”

“What if I gave you my word as a fellow Terran?” Dean asked, pointing out there similar accents. The masked man snorted and Dean admitted to himself that their people weren’t exactly known for their honesty or integrity. He threw down the rope anyway. The masked man ignored it. Dean thought again and realized that honesty was his best bet in gaining the man’s trust, no matter how ephemeral any kind of decency between the two of them could be. “I swear on the soul of Mary Winchester, my mother, may she rest in peace.”

The masked man stilled. He glanced up at the swordsman and then took hold of the rope, climbing to the top quickly and easily. Once he reached the top, The swordsman helped him over the edge. The masked man reached for his blade to defend himself, but Dean stopped him with a few quick words.

“No, get your breath back. Then we’ll fight.”

“That’s… very gentlemanly of you.”

“A dishonest man never has a good fight,” Dean said with a quick grin. The masked man’s mouth twitched in amusement, his eyes taking in every feature of the swordsman in front of him. Dean was shorter than him by several inches, muscular, and graceful on his feet in a way that only swordsmen possessed. Dean likewise analyzed his opponent, determining the style in which he should attempt to defeat him. Dean paused for a moment, stealing himself to ask a question.

“It’s hard to see in this light,” he began, since the sun had not yet fully risen. “But you wouldn’t happen to have yellow eyes, would you?”

The masked man lifted his head so that the light hit his eyes. Brown or hazel, but certainly not yellow. Dean relaxed minutely.

“Why do you ask?” the masked man said carefully. Dean sat down on a rock, before beginning the familiar tale, the quest that had define so much of his life.

“A man with yellow eyes killed both of my parents,” he said, his voice filled with emotion despite the years that had passed since he lost them. “First my mother, when my father refused to give my little brother up to be raised as a soldier in Aether. And then my father when we spent years tracking the bastard down. But not me. He left me alive. Not unscathed, but alive.”

Dean lifted his shirt, exposing a long pale scar that ran from from above his heart to the left of his navel. The masked man grimaced in sympathy.

“And your brother?”

“Safe on a farm in Terra,” Dean said. Then he looked out at the water, a pensive look on his face. “At least I hope to God he is.”

“Seems to be a noble cause, avenging the death of your parents,” the masked man said. “But what are you doing working for a man like Crowley?”

“Noble doesn’t pay the bills. Considering your skill set, I’m sure you’re well aware of that.”

The masked man laughed a moment before rising.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “And you have been fair to me.”

Dean matched the masked man by also standing, unsheathing his blade so it glimmered in the early morning light. The two circled each other, love of the fight lighting up both sets of eyes.

“You seem alright, for a dumb ass in a mask,” Dean said cheerfully. “I’d hate to kill you.”

Dean lunged forward, and the masked man easily countered his attack, causing Dean to take a step back. He smiled wider. The man across from him was clearly an expert, just as he was.

“I’d hate to die,” the masked man said back flippantly.

The two exchanged attacks, getting a feel for the other’s fighting style. As time went on, the clash of sword on sword grew in frequency and the two men were working hard to to dodge the other’s blade. However, it was evident from the start that the masked man had the upper hand. He had managed to back Dean into a corner, when he was surprised by a ferocious grin on the swordsman’s face.

“Why are you smiling?” asked the masked man. Dean grinned wider.

“Because I know something you don’t know.”

“And what’s that?”

“I am not left handed.”

Dean switched the sword to his right hand with ease, and the masked man suddenly found himself facing an opponent he knew was his superior. Dean forced him back easily, barely bothering to attempt death blows anymore in favor of gaining more space to maneuver. The masked man knew he would have to act quickly in order to gain the swordsman’s attention.

“I don’t know if I’ve met someone that matches your skill,” the masked man got out.

“Revenge is an excellent motivator,” Dean said easily. “Also, apparently I have an attitude problem. Lots of fights means lots of practice.”

“You know there’s something I should tell you,” the masked man said. Dean indicated with a nod that he was listening, though he didn’t slow down for a second in the fight. “That necklace you’re wearing? Your brother didn’t find it on the ground. He stole it from the Singers before you left him on Blake farm, and he didn’t tell you because he didn’t want the last thing you ever did to be getting in a fight.”

The sword dropped from Dean’s hands.

“Sammy?”

Sam swiftly hit the hilt of his sword over his brother’s head. Dean fell to the ground unconscious, and Sam carefully moved him behind several rocks so that he would remain unseen to the casual observer. For another moment he drank in the image of his brother, who he hadn’t seen in so many years. Then he sheathed his sword and and glanced towards the path inland.

“We’ll catch up another time, Dean,” he promised, before racing after Sarah Blake and the other two men who had kidnapped her.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel could not believe his eyes when he saw the masked man running across the hills towards them, and felt a deep grief begin to consume him. Crowley was less affected and showed only irritation that his plan had been interrupted.

“What’s the point of a master swordsman if he can’t win a damn sword fight?” Crowley raged. He glanced toward Castiel, knowing that the angel was his last hope to incapacitate the masked man. He decided himself lucky that whatever gentleness seemed inherent to Castiel’s nature would likely be overridden by the pain he clearly felt over Dean’s likely death at the hands of the masked man. “Alright, angel, it’s your turn. Give me the princess. You are going to kill him and then catch up to us, you understand?”

“And Dean?” Castiel responded quietly, setting Sarah down.

“Whether he’s alive or dead, there’s nothing you can do to change it now,” Crowley pointed out. Castiel’s wings slumped. “So do your job and kill this devil.”

Then Crowley began to walk away. Before Sarah could make any attempt at running, Crowley had tightened his grip on her shoulder. She knew logically that running would do nothing but delay the inevitable as she could not hope to outrun her kidnappers and she had even less hope of outrunning the man who was after her, if he turned out to be foe rather than friend. Still, she struggled against Crowley yanking her forward until he took out the knife Castiel had given him earlier and pointed it at her neck. Sarah did not wish to die, so she let herself be led away, for the moment.

Castiel concealed himself by magic in the center of the path and stood in wait for the masked man. He came running, and Castiel revealed himself a moment before the masked man ran into him. With surprisingly quick reflexes, he retreated several steps, watching Castiel wearily.

“And you are?”

“Castiel.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

The angel did not seem to agree.

“The swordsman you fought with,” Castiel said plainly. “Is he dead?”

The masked man blinked a moment and then stared steadily back at the angel.

“Does the answer I give matter?” he asked. He tensed as Castiel’s wings flared outwards threateningly, and the angel’s eyes began to glow.

“Your answer determines how painful your death will be,” Castiel said back coolly. He advanced towards the masked man, backing him up quickly against a rock. Unseen to the angel, the man cut his hand and began drawing quickly on the rock behind him.

“May I enquire which answer ensures the less painful death?” he asked. The angel narrowed his eyes and lifted a glowing palm toward the masked man. His opponent responded quickly to the threat. “The swordsman lives. Though his head may ache for several days, he has no lasting injuries.”

“And why would you spare him?” Castiel asked flatly, disbelief and hope warring within his eyes. The masked man continued to draw as he answered.

“Why would an angel become a mercenary? The world is a funny place.”

“I have my reasons,” Castiel said. He lowered his eyes a moment in what seemed to be genuine shame. The masked man regarded him curiously, even as he continued to draw the sigil.

“And I have mine for sparing him. And I did spare him, Castiel.”

As the angel searched his eyes to determine whether or not the masked man was speaking the truth, Sam finished the roughly drawn sigil and slammed down his palm. The angel realized his mistake too late, and disappeared in a flash of blinding light. Sam knew he would be unable to return from where he had been banished for several hours, and that was more than enough time to retrieve Sarah from the man who had kidnapped her. Still, he knelt a moment and lowered his head.

“Castiel,” he said, focusing his mind into the tranquil state that angels read messages from. “The swordsman is hidden within the rocks of the cliff we first landed on. I don’t envy you the difficulty of moving at the moment, but know I wish you success in finding him. My apologies for any stress to your wings.”

His conscience having been settled, Sam quickly followed the path he had seen the final kidnapper racing along. He knew he was not far behind them.

~~~

Michael surveyed the scene before him, analyzing the footsteps and the styles they denoted. He knew the area he was standing in had been the site of an incredible fight. His eyes tracked the motions and he at last spotted the point at which the slightly less skilled of the two masters had seemingly outsmarted his opponent. Michael held up a hand toward his men to silence them and followed the drag marks to a space behind several rocks.

Castiel had not yet regained the strength to drag Dean from where the masked man had left him unconscious, but he had used what little energy he had left to conceal the both of them from the prying eyes of King Michael. He flinched as Michael’s eyes roved over his enchantment, but it was clear the king was not searching for angelic interference with his vision, and for this reason he perceived that the swordsman had left of his volition.

“It appears the loser has left,” Michael announced to his party.

“Should we follow him?” asked one of the riders. Michael shook his head, his eyes stormy.

“No. We ride on to save the princess,” he said. Castiel did his best not to let out a sigh of relief as he waited behind the rocks. “She is all that matters.”

“And of your own safety, your highness?” questioned another one of the riders. Castiel felt a chill run through him, as though the dead were speaking to him and glanced over the rock a moment to see the man who had spoken. He had only a second to take in bright yellow eyes before he ducked down again, adrenaline doing nothing to help with his extreme exhaustion.

“Do not worry, Azazel,” King Michael said with a hint of humor. “I always ensure that.”

At long last the men rode on to save the princess. When they had finally gone, Castiel relaxed somewhat and let go of Dean so he was once more laying upon the ground. Castiel spared one of his wings to act as a pillow and smiled suddenly as he realized the significance of what he had seen.

“I found the man you search for,” he said to the unconscious man in front of him. “It appears the yellow eyed man is in the service of my cousin. When you wake, we will lay siege to the castle and you will exact your vengeance.”

Castiel found himself slumping over as the adrenaline left his system and his body began to still so it could replenish his grace. He curled his left wing around himself to keep warm and prayed that no one looked for them until they were in a position to defend themselves again.

~~~

“I wouldn’t step any closer,” Crowley threatened the moment the masked man was in sight. He pause a moment and then took a step. Crowley pushed the knife he had pointed at Sarah Blake’s neck with just enough pressure that a drop of blood pooled against the point. The masked man froze.

“Now surely we can come to some form of arrangement,” the masked man said. Crowley didn’t move a muscle.

“I assure you, nothing you could offer me would be worth what I get if I kill her,” Crowley responded. The masked man frowned and indicated the sword at his belt with a nod of his head.

“You would pick a reward over your own life?” he asked. “You can’t be under any allusions what will happen to you once I no longer fear you ending her life.”

Crowley grimaced unhappily, knowing the masked man was right. There was no way forward for either of them, and no way out of their standoff without one or the other ending up dead. Crowley knew if it came to a physical fight, the masked man would likely beat him. And although he did desire the reward he had been promised for the war effort against Abaddon, he did value his own life more highly than winning the war, of only just.

“You come near me, she dies,” Crowley threatened again. The masked man raised an eyebrow.

“You kill her and you won’t be far behind,” he promised. “But there must be a way we could solve this in a timely fashion. A duel?”

“You can’t expect me to clash swords with a man that defeated my swordsman,” Crowley huffed. “I am not an idiot.”

“Perhaps a battle of wits then,” the masked man suggested. “For the princess.”

“To the death?” Crowley asked. The masked man nodded. “I accept.”

Crowley took out two goblets and filled each with wine. He then turned around and filled one of them with another substance that he identified as poison when he turned back towards the masked man. He seemed unconcerned about possibly swallowing poison to Crowley, which exacerbated the Abyssinian’s anger. He controlled his temper with ease and placed the two goblets in front of the masked man who considered each quietly. Little did he know that Crowley had poisoned both and was immune to the poison he had chosen through spells he had learned from his mother.

“Having performance issues?” Crowley asked after a minute of watching the masked man glance at each goblet in turn. “It happens to everyone.”

The masked man looked up to meet his eye. At long last he chose one of the goblets and then drank from it heartily. Crowley matched his action and then both men set their glasses down. After a few moments, Crowley began to laugh.

“Is something funny?” asked the masked man humorlessly. Crowley began laughing harder.

“There was poison in both goblets, you imbecile. For future reference never try to outsmart a witch’s son when death is on the line, because we’ve learned not to underestimate our opponents.”

“Is that so?” the masked man asked. Sam drew his sword and slit the Abyssinians throat so quickly, Crowley only had time to gurgle his surprise before he was dead. Sam watched him fall without pity, the red of his wound staining the grass he had landed on. Sarah stared at the sight of it in a kind of fascinated horror before her eyes fixed on the man who was her savior.

“Why aren’t you dead?” she asked first, rather tactlessly she supposed. The masked man seemed to raise an eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell below the cloth that covered his face.

“Witch’s aren’t the only ones who can build up immunities to poisons,” the masked man said. He nudged the dead man with his toe for a moment.

“But you cheated,” Sarah said. “You cut his throat. Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I make no claims to decency, your highness,” he said, twisting the last word as though it were an insult, as he pushed her onwards on the path after helping her to stand and undoing her bonds. Sarah did not flinch from him, instead standing taller as she became more and more certain of the identity of the man who had come to save her. There could be no one else but the Dread Pirate Lucifer who was so capable and ruthless.


	5. Chapter 5

King Michael stooped beside the rock to examine the drying blood. Even though it had been likely half an hour since the sigil had been used, he could still feel the power bleeding off of it in waves. He frowned. He had not expected an angel to be involved in this, though that wasn’t what was worrying him. It was the sigil. Angelic weaknesses were closely guarded secrets, and he could count on one hand the amount of humans and demons he knew that had any idea of the symbol that had been painted in blood.

“It seems someone has defeated in angel,” he said. Only banished it, of course, though Michael felt no need to share the specifics with any of the men who rode with him. He pulled his horse away from the sigil and decided to pay it no mind for now. “Onwards!”

~~~

Sarah cursed the dress she was wearing as the masked man forced her ever faster along the path. What he was fleeing she did not know, but she did not care to make it easy for him. At last she managed to trip herself without being steadied on her feet and crashed to the ground, biting onto her tongue by accident and spitting a mouth full of blood onto the ground. It was enough to win the masked man’s attention. He knelt beside her and offered a handkerchief, eyes scanning the horizon. She took it and wiped the blood from her mouth.

“Do you plan to return me to Aether?” she asked. She knew the answer, of course, but she had found much success in life in letting men underestimate her.

“I have no such plans, your highness.”

“All’s well with that I suppose. I rather look forward to seeing what my fiance will do to you once he finds me. And he will find me, I promise you that.”

“You have such faith in him, your highness. You must love him greatly,” the masked man said, a hint of… irritation in his voice. That and a great deal of mockery, which caused Sarah to respond in equal bitterness.

“And what would you know of love?” she inquired, uncaring whether her insolent tone cost her her life. The masked man met her eyes a moment before he was dragging her once again to her feet and pulling her along at an even faster pace than before. Sarah stumbled every few steps or so, but the masked man showed no sign of stopping once again.

~~~

When King Michael saw Crowley’s body lying upon the ground and without his bride anywhere to be seen his concern grew exponentially. What had seemed impossible had just been proven. Not only had his bride to be been kidnapped, but she’d been kidnapped twice. And if the trail that had been left behind him was anything to go by, the second kidnapper had been wildly more successful. If only King Michael knew what this mysterious fourth man planned to do with his fiancee.

He urged his men to follow the path, suspecting it was along this route that the kidnapper had fled with Sarah Blake.

~~~

They were within a half a mile of the fire swamp when they next stopped. At last, gasping, Sarah was allowed to sit. As she did so, she caught sight of the masked man watching her. She saw the way his eyes lingered across her face and she stiffened in his appraisal. At last she could not keep silent.

“I would prefer that you wouldn’t look upon me,” she said.

“And why would that be?”

“Because I’d rather not remember the eyes of a man I plan to kill.”

The masked man seemed surprised at that, and he sat at a distance from her. Good.

“And why kill me, highness? Haven’t I just saved your life?”

“I lost my life long ago. You haven’t saved it so much as prolonged it.”

“And you would hold that against me?”

“How can I forgive a man for protecting this shell when he stole my life five long years ago? I know who you are. How you rid yourself of your wings, I cannot fathom, but you are the angel Lucifer, the pirate that haunts the Abyssinian seas, the scourge of the three kingdoms.”

“At your service, highness,” the masked man agreed readily. “Those are the names I’m called by.”

“Oh, you go by many more. Murderer would be one I am unlikely to forget.”

“I have killed many people,” the masked man said flippantly. “Is there one in particular that upsets you? A brother, a father, a friend, a lover?”

He lingered over the last word and Sarah couldn’t help but look away at it. He nodded to himself and Sarah disliked herself for giving the advantage away. Still, if she were going to kill him for what he had done, she may as well tell him the extent of his crimes against her.

“His name was Sam,” she said softly. “I never knew love before him.”

“And yet you knew it after.”

“No,” Sarah hissed vehemently. She collected herself after a moment, clenched fists the only sign of the anger she still held. “No, I did not. Whatever I had of love within me, you stole. And you will pay for it.”

“And why should I?” the masked man asked. “I think I may have done the young man a favor. Five long years away from the woman he loved and to return to see her engaged to another man? You should be glad he’s dead.”

The masked man had stood to deliver this last part, towering over Sarah in a manner she found both threatening and advantageous for disabling him. She kept a knife on her person that she had been unable to reach with her hands bound, but now that the masked man had freed her she could make use of. She planned to sever his achilles tendon first, but just before she was going to act, the sound of horses distracted him and she leapt to her feet, her knife pressed into his neck. He froze and Sarah looked up at him defiantly, willing him to fight against her. He made no move to do so.

“Not that you deserve them,” she said, keeping the knife as steady as she could in her shaking hands. She was stalling, she knew she was, but she had never taken a life before and even in her anger she found it distasteful. “But do you have any last words?”

The masked man met her eyes and held them.

“As you wish.”

The knife slipped from her grip. It landed somewhere between his feet, but she paid it no attention as she stepped forward and hesitantly moved her hands to the mask. The man did not stop her, but she couldn’t bring herself to remove it. Not yet.

“Sam?” she asked. Before she could confirm it for herself or he could respond, the sound of horses grew much closer, and the masked man once again looked behind him and then observed the steep drop to their right. Without warning, he pushed her towards the edge and then had them both jump off the side and endure the long slide down, during which Sarah momentarily feared for her life. At last it was over, and they had reached the bottom of some sort of stream. Once her heart was no longer in her throat, she lifted the mask.

Sam had grown different she noticed first. She traced the lines on his face, and nearly cried when she saw him close his eyes at her touch. She choked on the tears and buried her face into the side of his neck.

“But you were dead,” she said insistently. Sam laughed at the absurdity of the claim and Sarah joined in after a moment.

“It appears then that death cannot stop true love,” he said, placing a kiss to Sarah’s cheek. “All it can do is… delay it for a little while.”

“Yes, well, let’s delay it no more then,” Sarah said, with a smile. Sam nodded his agreement and cupped Sarah’s face before leaning in and-

****************

“Wait a second. That’s it?” asked Claire indignantly. “She forgives him, just like that?”

Chuck stopped his reading and looked up confused.

“Yes?” he said, not sure what Claire was upset about. Claire huffed and took the book from him for a second, scanning it before handing it back to him angrily. “Is it the kissing thing?”

“No, it’s just… why does she forgive him? He was gone for five years and alive the whole time! And she doesn’t even ask for an explanation or anything. She acts like he hasn’t put her through hell for no reason. How hard would it have been to send one message during that five year period that said ‘Oh by the way, I’m not dead, I’m pretending to be a pirate’.”

“Well…”

“And she was just starting to get cool too, with the whole vengeance thing.”

Chuck made the diplomatic decision not to think about whether or not Claire was more bloodthirsty than the average child. Or ever mention speculation on the fact out loud. Claire didn't appear to notice this internal dilemma.

“Not to mention, he acted like a complete jerk when he found her. What, she was supposed to wait around forever for him to get his shit together? No thank you. Maybe if he had let her know he was okay at some point in the five friggin years he was missing she wouldn’t be engaged to somebody else. He has no right to be pissy.”

Chuck sighed and made to close the book since it looked as though it were doing more harm than good in his and Claire’s relationship. Before he could do so, Claire stopped him.

“Aren’t you going to finish it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It seems like it’s getting you kind of worked up,” Chuck said. Claire frowned and lay back down on her bed.

“I’m fine. You can keep reading. I want to hear about the fire swamp. That sounded cool.”

“Alright, alright,” Chuck said, happy to give in. “I’ll keep going for a little while longer.”

****************

Sarah and Sam ran along the bottom of the ravine they had fallen into, aware of the sound of thundering horses now chasing them. Sarah urged herself faster as they noise grew louder but with Sam’s hand in hers she knew they would make it.

“So the fire swamp?” she asked before they went in. “Has anyone ever actually made it out alive?”

“There’s a first for everything,” said Sam as the two launched themselves past the forest line. Suddenly the noise from the horses stops and Sam knows they’ve made the best strategic choice possible. No one survives the fire swamp, and hopefully the King’s men would leave him and Sarah for dead. If all went well, he and Sarah would be free to do anything she wanted and Sam would follow her if she would let him.

At least, that’s what would happen if they managed to survive.


	6. Chapter 6

In the fire swamp, the world seemed more grey, somehow, as though the sunlight struggled to reach the ground. Pools of black bubbled occasionally, and loud clicking sounds could be heard in the distance.

Sarah took a deep breath and turned to face Sam, her eyebrow raised skeptically. He smiled at her affably and shrugged.

“I’m guessing you’d rather we kept looking for real estate elsewhere?” he teased, the light hearted banter somewhat muted by the fact his eyes were constantly roving the surrounding territory for threats. Sarah walked alongside him, just as much on her guard.

As they walked, the clicking that they had heard since they entered the forest sounded immediately under Sarah’s feet, and the next moment a great column of fire set her dress aflame. Sam rushed to put it out, helping Sarah to her feet once he had managed to.

“Are you alright?” asked Sam, worriedly. Sarah nodded, and the clicking sound started again and she pushed Sam over away from the sound. Another column of fire went up where the two of them had been standing before and Sarah looked around to stare at it in horror from where she’d tackled Sam to the ground.

“Not that I’m not enjoying the view,” Sam said, voice a little pained. “But I would appreciate if you would move your elbow.”

Sarah got up quickly and offered Sam her hand. He took it and pulled himself to his feet.

“Sorry,” Sarah said. “I hope you don’t bruise.”

“I’ve been through much worse, Sarah,” said Sam, though he sounded too happy for the darkness of his words. She frowned at him and motioned for them to continue walking and hoped her love took it as an invitation to continue talking.

They walked on.

“It’s not so bad,” said Sam as they walked. “Soon we’ll be through it, and then, if you wish to accompany me, we can escape on the good ship, Hell. Aptly named, but as luck would have it, you happen to be traveling with the Dread Pirate Lucifer.”

“But that makes no sense,” said Sarah. “Lucifer was the king’s brother and an angel besides. He’s been haunting the seas since he was passed over for succession, and that’s almost twenty years besides!”

“Well,” said Sam, pausing to listen and dancing out of the way of another column of flame. “When my ship was attacked, I tried to rally the crew against them. Ultimately I failed, but it amused the captain and he kept me aboard as entertainment for himself, after asking why I fought so hard against a hopeless cause. Love, I told him. I had someone back home I needed to come back to. I couldn’t die.”

Sam laughed a little bitterly to himself.

“Every day he put me through hell, and each morning he asked me if love was still worth living for,” said Sam. “For the first year, at least. At some point we became friends, and I learned to fight, different languages, studied books you can only dream of Sarah… A nightmare became a dream, and one day instead of offering to kill me, the captain offered me the boat.”

“Lucifer gave you his ship?” asked Sarah in astonishment.

“See, he’d become so rich he’d decided to retire. And that’s when he told me that he was not the Dread Pirate Lucifer,” said Sam. “His name was Gadreel, and he said he had not inherited the ship from the real Dread Pirate Lucifer either. Lucifer himself has been living life comfortably in Abyssinia for fifteen years, and rumored to be a good friend of the Queen to those in the know. See, it’s the title that’s important. Dread Pirate Sam just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Sam and Sarah walked on, getting dangerously close to one of the viscous pools of black bubbles. As they spoke, the pool began to rise slightly, as though an amorphous hand was reaching out.

Sam continued talking, oblivious to the danger. He swing his sword at a hanging tree branch in their path as he spoke.

“So Gadreel and I get a whole new crew, and Gadreel carves two long lines down my back and tells them all I am Lucifer, and I removed my wings out of disdain for my family. Soon enough, everyone believed I was the real Lucifer,” said Sam. “Though I hardly think my ship is the best place for us, and I have a promising first mate that I’ve thought to pass the title onto. If you would have me.”

Sam could not look at Sarah as he said the last part, unable to stand it if everything he had been through was for naught. Sarah was about to assure him, of course she wanted to spend all her days with him, only as soon as she opened her mouth, the black pool’s hand reached around her ankle and within a second she was swallowed up. She did not even have time to scream.

Sam waited for the answer.

“Sarah?” he said softly, turning to face her. When he saw her missing, immediate fear struck him. “Sarah!”

He looked around, desperate for some clue to where she had gone. Then he saw the bubbly pool reaching out for him and dodged the hand reaching for him. He looked up at the tree and took out a rope, tying it tightly around the trunk and then himself before diving into the pool of black and feeling it suck him down.

He reached around desperately for Sarah, hardly able to move through the trail muck. But then at last he grasped a hand which latched on tightly to his and he kept grasping until he had an arm around Sarah’s waist. Then, he started the slow climb back to the sun.

The two emerged from the black pool with a loud pop of suction released when Sam pulled them entirely out. They collapsed, both breathing hard and spitting out the vile liquid, and trying not to be sick.  
“Oh gods, we’re going to die,” said Sarah, gasping. Sam shook his head as they both got to their feet.

“Nonsense. You know better than that,” he said, flinching when he looked over her shoulder to see a pair of glowing snake like eyes from the trees above them. “The fire is kind enough to knock before it makes an appearance. And it’s easy enough to avoid the sludge. The terrors of the fire swamp are few when you think about it.”

Sarah frowned at him.

“And the dragons?” she asked.

“I don’t think those exist,” said Sam flippantly.

He barely dodged out of the way quickly enough to avoid the first dragons talons when it swooped down to attack.

Sarah shouted, falling to the ground and picking up a thick branch, which she attempted to use to beat off the dragon as it made a second attempt to attack. The dragon opened it’s mouth and let out streams of fire that lit up the branch she had been using. Sarah dropped it instantly and ran for cover as the dragon opened its mouth again.

Sam took advantage of Sarah’s distraction to shove his sword through the membranous skin of the dragons wings, and the creature fell to earth with an agonized roar, it thrashed on the ground in pain, and gradually changed shape into something resembling a man, though still scaled and with those strange snake eyes. It leapt at Sam, needle like teeth biting down hard onto the arm that held the sword and forcing Sam to let go of it with a shout.

The dragon let go and tried to bite down again this time aiming for Sam’s throat. Before it could, Sam punched the creature in his gut, and rolled it over keeping his hands around the creature’s neck. Talons scraped at his legs, but ignored them, seeing the hand from the black puddle reaching out once more.

As soon as it had grabbed onto the dragons wrist, Sam released his hold and fled from the dragon, as it was dragged, screaming, into the black pool. Sarah picked up his sword and handed it to him, unable to stop staring at where the dragon had just disappeared.

“You think they don’t exist, huh?” she said, too stunned to pull off her sarcasm.

“We survived,” Sam pointed out, which she supposed was all that mattered.

Sarah had to support Sam as they walked, and he promised he would let her tend to his wounds once they had left the swamp. It seemed like forever before the sun started slowly get brighter, and the trees began to open up.

At last the fire swamp was behind them.

“We did it,” Sarah said in disbelief.

“I always had faith in us,” said Sam, making her smile. She kissed the corner of his mouth and was about to set him down and tend to his wounds when the sound of an arrow whizzing through the air caused them both to immediately flatten themselves. Sarah grasped Sam’s hand, wondering what was happening now.

They had but to look up to see King Michael and all his men standing before them.


	7. Chapter 7

“Surrender,” said Michael, glancing between Sam and Sarah, distaste coloring his voice.

“We humbly accept,” said Sam, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from his companion. “Your majesty. Now if you would just order your men to stand down…”

Michael laughed humorlessly, and Sarah was quick to notice that every crossbow was aimed at Sam, and no matter how she might try she could not shield him from them all. A plan began to form in her mind as the love of her life and the man she had been unwillingly betrothed to exchanged snipes. She looked up at Sam and tried to communicate with her eyes that she was so very sorry.

“If you do not stand down, I will kill you. Do you understand me, fool?” said Michael. “Or worse. It’s my understanding that you are the captain aboard the ship Hell. I wonder what your crew of pirates would do if they learned the truth about the Dread Pirate Lucifer?”

Michael spit out the last words, clearly offended that Sam would even pretend to be a former member of the royal family. Sam feigned confusion with the skill of a born liar, and had Sarah not known otherwise she might have believed the identity he wove for himself.

“Don’t you recognize me, Michael? The prodigal son returned home, your brother Lucifer, the angel that betrayed the kingdom and made his riches stealing off your ships. It’s me the scourge of the Abyssinian Seas, murderer of men, and your personal greatest disappointment, Michael. You couldn’t kill me when you were supposed to, and I doubt you could kill me now.”

“You are not my brother, and I will skin you for passing yourself off as him,” hissed Michael. “Release my bride-“

“See, I could not steal the crown from you. Instead I have decided to steal her. Perhaps we should both be satisfied with what is ours and call it a day.”

“Or perhaps I order an arrow into your heart-“

“No!” shouted Sarah, startling both men into silence. “Michael, I’ll go with you. I’ll do anything you please. Just let him go back to his ship, and leave him in peace.”

“Sarah-“

Sarah turned to Sam and put a hand on his cheek, before letting it fall away.

“Your death can’t be my fault,” she said to him. “Losing you once was more than enough pain for one lifetime. As long as you are safe, I could bear anything.”

“I’ll let him go,” said Michael loudly, breaking the moment between the two lovers. “If you return with me, I’ll grant him safe passage. You have my word.”

Sarah turned back to Sam, and he shook his head at her.

“Sarah don’t do this.”

Sarah deliberately turned and walked to Michael, letting him help her onto his horse. Sam let her walk away, though every footstep felt like a nail in his coffin. Sarah wasn’t a fool, but she couldn’t know how corrupt the King of Aether really was. Sam had little hope of seeing the sun again after that day. It didn’t matter, Michael left orders to send Sam on his way and left so quickly that Sarah would never know what became of him. Already his heart ached for her return.

“Should we accompany you to your ship… Lucifer?” said Azazel, smile twisting his face into an unpleasant grimace. Sam looked up at the stranger and saw in the early evening light the yellow coloring of his eyes.

“I may be a liar, but I am not a fool,” said Sam. “And you don’t strike me as someone who has tolerance for falsehoods.”

“You seem confident for a dead man.”

“As do you,” said Sam, remembering his brother the swordsman and wishing for him to speedily find and dispatch of the yellow eyed man. Azazel, however, took it as a threat and did not take kindly to being threatened. A swift knock on the head had Sam dropping to the ground as quickly as a stone.

When he woke, he was no longer in the forest, but in a cave, dark and dank. Above him was a man who was tending to his wounds. The man looked to be angry at the world in general, and Sam had a feeling he was perhaps using too much force when it came to cleaning his wounds.

“Did I offend you in some way?” asked Sam, making the man jump.

“No,” he said cautiously. “Forgive me, I am but a humble scribe-“

“A scribe sent to clean the wounds of prisoners?” asked Sam, making a tutting noise. “You must have angered the king.”

“Everyone angers the king. This too shall pass,” said the scribe, though his nasally voice still gave the impression he was whining. “I’m in a far better position than you are at least. No one escapes the Pit of Despair.”

“Is that really what you decided to go with?”

“I didn’t name it,” said the scribe, mildly offended. “And if the King had any respect for creativity or genuine talent, I wouldn’t be down here.”

“And your name again?”

“There are those who call me Marve. Or Metatron! I'm trying to get that to catch on-“

“Marve will do. So Marve, what is it they plan to do to me?”

“Oh. Torture.”

Sam nodded to himself.

“I can handle torture.”

Marve shook his head sadly, and yet his eyes remained pitiless. He was spineless man through and through, Sam observed.

“You may know pain,” acknowledged Marve. “But not even angels can withstand the machine. And you, my friend, are not an angel.”

Sam frowned down at the chains that bound him to the table he had been placed on. They were too thick to file, and he truly had no hope of escape. For the first time in a long time, he was filled with fear.

~~~

The day of Michael and Sarah’s wedding was a day of celebration throughout the land of Aether. Every citizen participated in the festivities and feasts, and when it was over, Sarah went before the people as their new queen-

**********

“Hold on a second, what!” shouted Claire. Chuck nearly dropped the book in surprise. “That can’t happen. What about- What about the stupid true love conquers all thing?”

“I thought you were angry this wasn’t realistic enough,” asked Chuck when he had recovered from his surprise. Claire crossed her arms petulantly.

“Well, yeah, but she goes through all of that crap and she doesn’t even get to be with the person she loves? What kind of story is that? That’s not fair.”

“Life seldom is.”

“Oh, was that the point of reading this? Life isn’t fair. Sometimes people drop out of your life for years, and that’s fine. You should just accept it and move on even though they never apologized to you or anyone you cared about,” said Claire.

Silence fell between the two of them for a moment. Chuck started to close the book.

“Wait,” said Claire before he could. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes you did,” said Chuck. “I understand that maybe I haven’t earned your trust. But… trust me anyway? Let me finish?”

Claire nodded and settled back under covers. Chuck cleared his throat and continued reading.

**********

-as their new queen. She stared into a sea of faces, all of which kneeled before her. However as her eyes traveled through the crowd and eventually reached the horizon a horrifying image burned itself into her eyes.

There, hanging from a gallows, was Sam, the two long scars he had told her about the only thing identifiable about him. The rest a beaten and bloody mess. He was surely dead, and yet he turned slowly in the breeze to look at her, and even in the distance she could hear him.

“Death can’t keep true love apart,” he said.

Sarah woke from the dream screaming.

**********

“I knew she didn’t marry him!”

“Yes, you’re very smart. Now listen.”

**********

Sarah ran from her room to find Michael, and come across him in the dining hall. As soon as she saw him, she made herself clear.

“I don’t want to marry you. I have never wanted to marry you. And I am so afraid I’ve killed the man I love trying to save him,” she said, recognizing some spark of emotion in Michael’s eyes that she hoped was pity. “I want to go back to him. If you’re a man of honor, like all of Aether claims… you would let me. I was betrothed to him in Terra long before I even knew your name.”

Michael took her hands softly.

“Are you sure he even still wants you?” he asked, causing Sarah’s expression to stiffen into distain. “I don’t mean to offend, my darling, but you did leave him at the Fire Swamp. If it were me, I would not return to someone who had so wounded my pride.”

“Sam will always be faithful to me, and he will return, mark my words,” said Sarah. “Whether you will it or not. But I’ve heard that you are a good person. Prove it.”

Michael sighed.

“I will send for him,” he said. “But if he does not come, you will marry me. Are we in agreement?”

“Whatever will cause you to most speedily send for him,” replied Sarah. “I’d bet great wealth on his return. There is no risk for me.”

“Are we in agreement?” repeated Michael, knowing Sarah was a woman of her word. Sarah swallowed nervously, but nodded. She had faith in what she had said.

“Yes.”


	8. Chapter 8

Michael and Azazel walked together along a path until they came across a wall marked with Enochian sigils. It was mostly decorative, and the panel they were interested in looked similar to the other panels that have been carved into the side of a rock. Its location partly hidden by surrounding trees provided good cover from being seen from afar.

“You Sarah truly is full of spirit,” remarked Azazel. “If a touch naive.”

“A touch,” said Michael, smiling. “I think it adds to her charm. She’s rather beloved by angels and men alike. Surviving her kidnapping has made her all the more popular. I’m almost glad Crowley didn’t succeed in killing her for me. Once she turns up dead on our wedding night, I won’t just have Aether behind me when I declare war on Abyssus. Terra will almost certainly ally themselves with us as well.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that were so,” Azazel said. He turned back to face the panel, which almost seemed to spin in front of his eyes. “I always have trouble finding the correct sigil to…”

Azazel found and pushed the image of sun, and the door opened, revealing stairs that spiraled down into darkness. He smiled in satisfaction and motioned for Michael to move ahead of him.

“I’d love to, really Azazel,” said Michael. “Nothing would make me happier than seeing that pretender scream. But unfortunately, I’m exhausted. Too many sleepless nights planning this war.”

“Another time then,” said Azazel easily. “I’m happy to work, whether or not you are there.”

Michael nodded, then left. Azazel made his way down the stairs where he had ordered Marve to place Sam in a chair so that he could be attached to the machine.

The fraud who called himself Lucifer sat in the chair tall and proud. He had many scars, and some of them obviously intentionally put there (and out of these, Azazel recognized handicraft that was certainly inspired by Lucifer, though not his own hand). This was a man who was intimately familiar with pain. The two deep gashes that ran down his back were testament enough for that. It truly did match the scars left when an angel had their wings cut from their backs. And Azazel would know, since he had found it was the best way to break any angel prisoners if they were stubborn against the machine.

“Marve?” Azazel said, reaching his hand out. Marve passed over the head brace so Azazel could secure it to Sam’s head. Once it sat tightly there, he called for needles and pushed them in one by one, causing Sam to flinch each time. “The pain gets worse.”

Sam didn’t acknowledge him, aside from gritting his teeth.

“I invented this machine,” Azazel said to him. “It takes memories. The life you lived, the things you know, the people you know… It erases everything very slowly.”

Sam didn’t like that sound of that.

“And painfully,” Azazel added.

“It’s only pain,” Sam replied calmly. Azazel smiled cruelly at him, set the machine to the lowest setting and pressed it. The reaction was instantaneous. Sam shouted, clenched his fists, and tried to escape, anything to separate him from the intense and overwhelming pain he was being subjected to. When it was over, he let loose a sob.

“Only pain,” Azazel reminded him mockingly. “Shall we go again?”

Sam slumped into his chair.

~~~

Michael sought out Raphael, his head of security in order to implement the next part of his plan. He wanted to make sure there would be no interfering with his bride to be’s murder, and that meant any subversive elements within a certain range of the castle had to be removed.

“Sire,” Raphael said to greet him.

“As you are in charge of the safety of your brothers and future sister,” said Michael to Raphael calmly. “I thought it best for you to know that killers from Abyssus have infiltrated the Purgatory Forest, and plan to kill my bride on our wedding night.”

“Where did you learn of such a plot?” asked Raphael, surprised. Michael waved away his concern.

“I have my ears to the ground,” said Michael. “Will you empty the forest for me?”

Raphael balked.

“That’s impossible. Especially with he amount of men I-“

“Hire more. I want it the forest empty. Do you understand me, Raphael?” said Michael, voice dangerous. Raphael backed down.

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“I only need to hear possible.”


End file.
